


Watch Me Rise

by suchsweetaddiction



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (Various) Weasley Bashing, Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Anti-Muggles, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Dark!Harry, Dimension Travel, F/M, Granger bashing, Light side bashing, Mistress of Death - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Random Updates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-20 05:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15526590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchsweetaddiction/pseuds/suchsweetaddiction
Summary: It all started with backstabbing friends, mindless sheep, a deceitful and murderous old man and three ancient magical artefacts. Death had been far from happy and made them see the error of their ways. However, Iris Potter wanted her own chance at revenge and Death had approved gleefully.Now the world will witness the rise in power of a witch who many believe to be Light’s hope but will be anything but. Past opponents will be allies and past friends will be enemies. One thing is for sure, no one could ever expect what the near future will bring for the Wizarding World – if the changes will be good or bad, only time will tell.





	1. PROLOGUE - AN APOCALIPICTIC TANTRUM

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone!  
> This is a story I started to write and publish last year at fanfiction.net and I finally decided to post it on this site as well. Besides some minor corrections, the story is essentially the same.  
> I’ll add the already written chapters shortly as well and the new one (chapter 3).  
> Please, let me know what you think of it.  
> Happy reading!

** WATCH ME RISE **

_I'm waking up to ash and dust_  
_I wipe my brow and I sweat my rust_  
_I'm breathing in the chemicals_

_I'm breaking in, shaping up, then checking out on the prison bus  
This is it, the apocalypse_

_Radioactive – Imagine Dragons_

* * *

 

**PROLOGUE – AN APOCALIPTIC TANTRUM**

In the deepest level of Great Britain’s Ministry of Magic, hidden amidst the labyrinth-like chambers of the Department of Mysteries, there was an extremely heavily warded room that not even the Unspeakables were allowed entrance. This room, which many speculated about but none was certain of what exactly contained inside, had been guarded this way for many decades now; unauthorized entry by any person – even the Minister for Magic himself – would bring severe punishments to the guilty party, if the wards in the place didn’t kill them outright before they were caught.

There was even a well-known rumour from around fifteen years after the room had been first locked down.

At the time, Angus Ormond, an upstart Dark Lord – the first self-proclaimed one after the demise of the Darkest Lord in the last two hundred years, Lord Voldemort – had tried to break in to the room and ended up dying a very painful and slow death, if the accounts from several Unspeakables, who had found the man’s gruesome corpse, were to be believed. The dark wizard, who had been previously considered by most another faceless and average Hufflepuff pureblood during his schooling years at Hogwarts (shockingly enough), had already made a name for himself by being considered one of the best curse-breakers in modern times with his very successful work in both Egypt and Greece backing these claims. It had been an utter shock when the people who had known Angus heard of the man’s obscure actions and subsequent untimely demise. No one would have ever suspected that Angus had had any predisposition to practise Dark Magic; everyone would swear that he was a Light Wizard through and through. Still, to be so easily defeated by those wards, they had to be very powerful and indestructible, everyone reasoned.

This event only had increased people’s morbid curiosity and fear of what was guarded inside. Many figured that it was something so tremendously dangerous that even the idea of trying to study it was completely out of the Unspeakables’ prospects – which was really saying something, as this Department’s members had no problems in ‘playing’ with Time, Space, Death and other mysteries that the average Wizard and Witch considered taboo or an impossibility.

Yet, this fact didn’t stop the people who knew about the mysterious room to often think about it and curiously wonder what was so extraordinary and dangerous inside it, even after all this time.

Hypothetically, if one could have a glimpse of what was so carefully hidden, they would surely be even more astonished.

In the middle of the average-sized room, inside a rectangular-shaped structure seemingly made of crystal-clear glass, lain a black-haired young woman ostensibly hovering three feet in the air without any support whatsoever. She appeared to be sleeping, her face completely relaxed and her arms resting crossed at her midsection, no unlike the position one was usually in when put inside a coffin to be laid to rest in the unforgiving ground forever.

If the one seeing this had muggle roots, they would certainly be eerily reminded of the old muggle fairy-tales of ‘Snow White’ or ‘Sleeping Beauty’. Unfortunately, there was no prince charming to save the damsel with a kiss.

All around the room, there were hundreds of ancient and foreign runes painted in the walls, ceiling and floor, and they emitted a shimmering light constantly displaying their great power. Even if the person didn’t know anything about wards and runes, they would instinctively realize that this construct was something so impressively exceptional that only someone very powerful, magically speaking, would ever be able to create such a thing with any hope of success.

 But, what perhaps would shock the person even more was the identity of the woman lying there. The witch once known as the ‘Girl-Who-Lived’ was now hidden from the world and seemingly sleeping for all eternity.

* * *

Throughout her life, Iris Lily Potter had been called many names, ones more reputable than others.

She had been ‘little Iris’ to her parents and their friends until she was fifteen months old; then, she had been told her name was ‘Freak’ and sometimes ‘Girl’ by her nasty relatives until she started Primary School and she had found out that it was a lie, not that they had really cared what the skinny girl wanted to be called. Then, on her eleventh birthday, Iris had learnt the truth about herself and her parents’ deaths and the title which the Wizarding World had bestowed upon her – ‘The Girl-Who-Lived’.

Throughout her years at Hogwarts, the young witch had been given many other names as well, none of them much appreciated by her, no matter the reason, but once more, the people hadn’t care what Iris Potter had to say about it. She had been the ‘Heir of Slytherin’, a ‘Liar’, a ‘Cheater’, an ‘Attention-seeking Brat’, the ‘Chosen One’ and finally the ‘Defeater of Voldemort’ and the ‘Saviour of the Wizarding World’.

However, the name that had remained in the memories of Wizardkind for decades afterwards was ‘Dark Lady’.

It was completely unexpected how that had happened. Perhaps, she’d muse later, that really shouldn’t have been; after all, the Wizarding World was fickle and unable to formulate an individual thought on their own, sheep as they had always been. Not that she could have ever really predicted what would exactly be her fate.

Nevertheless, Iris Potter had been caught completely out of guard and had paid greatly for her ignorance.

After having defeated Voldemort – against all odds and sensible expectations – the freshly named ‘Saviour of the Wizarding World’ had foolishly believed that finally she’d have a little peace and the chance to live a somewhat normal life.

Her naïve plans didn’t last even forty-eight hours before being ruthlessly and excruciatingly shattered and her life took a turn so unexpected that even now – decades, centuries later? – Iris wasn’t completely sure how that had really happened in the first place.

She remembered once feeling deep heartache, grief and betrayal at that unforeseen incident and so much more before she slowly moved on. Times with the people she’d once loved and cared about were no more than hazy memories now, only the hatred and unrelenting need for retribution were the sole emotions that remained.

Not that really mattered at the moment.

The world was ending and Iris Potter, once the one who had fought so hard and given up so much to save it, now couldn’t bring herself to care and detachedly watched the end of all things – or what some would call the Apocalypse –, the only thought in her mind being that it couldn’t end soon enough.

* * *

 

It was general and undeniable knowledge that Death was universal and timeless. Any living being would eventually meet this Entity no matter what means some magicals undertook to delay their encounter. It was simply inevitable.

What only some people had known throughout the existence of this world was that Death had once created three powerful artefacts, which when gathered together would give the possessor some degree of control over Him and great and unique powers that one couldn’t gain in any other way.

Admittedly, He had been quite bored at the time but that didn’t mean that Death was an idiot. He had created a fail-safe so He didn’t end up with a sociopath megalomaniac as a Master. Granted, there wasn’t really much that the mortal fool could do against Death ( _‘’Perish the thought!’’_ )  – they wouldn’t have that much power over Him. Still, He didn’t care for getting more headaches than the ones He occasionally received from His fellow Entities and their outlandish shenanigans.

For centuries, Death had waited to see who would be the lucky one to finally obtain the much coveted title. Occasionally, Fate had tried to give Him a few hints but He refused. What was the fun in already knowing what would happen in the future? After existing for so long, He had to get some kind of entertainment from somewhere, He had reasoned, or He would become insane – or more insane, rather.

Thus, He had been pleasant surprised when Iris Potter – a young mortal well known in the Immortal Realm due to her role in the Wizarding World; They frequently watched its happenings and commented on it as if They were watching TV, They had too much free time on their hands – had become His new Mistress. And it had been solely by accident, mind, the human girl didn’t really know what she had exactly accomplished by being the sole owner of the Deathly Hallows.

Death couldn’t have been more thrilled. He was looking forward to what His Mistress would do – finally, something to spice His eternal boring existence.

However, Death’s excitement was cut off abruptly when Iris was imprisoned inside an ancient and powerful Egyptian ward, which some believed was once designed to confine Osiris, the Egyptian god of the underworld. This happened right after the witch had been betrayed by her two best friends under the manipulative ways of someone who, for all intents and purposes, the mortals believed to be dead – Albus Dumbledore.

Death was far from happy when He had found out that the Philosopher’s Stone hadn’t actually been destroyed – there weren’t many things He hated more than magical items which could help prolong the lives of mortals and keeping them away from Death’s grasp. Instead, the self-proclaimed Light Lord had lied and hidden the powerful artefact to use later on for his own selfish devices.

It seemed that the old wizard had coveted the Deathly Hallows for almost a century now and had been beyond enraged when he found out that Iris had easily accomplished what he had been trying to do for so long.

The man had ruthlessly and carelessly blemished the freshly christened Saviour’s heroic deeds, with the prompt aid of Weasley and Granger, by declaring that she was a Dark Witch to the world at large. After all, how could she have been able to survive a second Killing Curse without any kind of damage whatsoever? And being possessed by a Horcrux for seventeen years could only mean that she was becoming Dark, right?

Naturally, the Wizarding World believed the words of the two War Heroes’ words like gospel – Dumbledore had coached them well. The man hadn’t lost time in creating a new identity for himself and seemingly out of nowhere, Alvis Dumbledore, the self-identified grandson of the late revered Headmaster of Hogwarts, had appeared to continue his ancestor’s work.

Thus, Iris Potter went from being called ‘Saviour’ to ‘Dark Lady’ in less than two days and the public demanded that she’d be arrested to protect the good people from her evil ways. The young woman’s recent heroic actions to save them all from Voldemort were barely a glimpse in their memories now that the danger had passed. The former ‘Girl-Who-Lived’ disappeared right after that and was never seen again, the public at large reassured that they were safe and free to live their pathetic little lives once more without fear of a dangerous criminal.

For some time, the disguised Albus Dumbledore had tried everything in his power to claim the Deathly Hallows from Iris’ possession, but soon he realized that all his efforts were useless. Regardless of what the old man did – Killing Curses, Poisons, anything and everything he could think of – it was clearly impossible to effectively kill the Mistress of Death. So, in a thunderous, desperate, last attempt at triumphing over, in any way, the young witch who had thwarted his carefully laid plans, Dumbledore had built an ancient ward that was once designed to imprison the underworld Egyptian God. Iris could not be killed but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t be confined through powerful magic and put to sleep for all eternity, he reasoned. The heavy and lethal warding around the room was only a precaution to stop anyone to try and somehow free Iris from her perpetual cage.

To put it mildly, Death had been furious.

That kind of ancient ward was simply impossible to destroy from the inside, regardless of the great powers the Mistress of Death might have at her disposition (not to mention that she was basically in a induced coma-like sleep, which was a Curse-version of the Draught of Living Death – the dark irony of the name didn’t escape Him), and Death Himself could not interfere directly in the Mortal Realm to save His own Mistress. The best He could do was helping Iris regain her conscious from the forceful magical sleep, but she couldn’t move her body due to the potent magic holding her absolutely immobile in that forsaken room.

What Death could do – and promptly did – was giving Iris some power to be able to travel in spirit form frequently. She was invisible to the mortals’ eyes and was unable to interact directly with anyone. The only way she was able to would be through possession, though she couldn’t do it often as it sapped her life energy very quickly but Death reasoned that it was much better than being stuck inside a warded room sleeping forever. (The irony that she was now ‘living’ like Voldemort had been after she had defeated him for the first time – as nothing more than a wraith – was not lost on her.) This way, the witch could get some answers to the questions running wildly in her head and thus working through her emotions and feelings of betrayal, and, at the same time, learn what had become of the world that she had fought so hard for. Even if the young woman couldn’t really do anything by herself for a long time, He was interested in what conclusions His little Mistress would reach when she finally understood that she had been throughout manipulated most of her life and that, in the end, all her deeds and sacrifices had been for naught.

As a rule, Death really didn’t care what happened to mortals. Unsurprisingly, He had existed for so long that such things were not even a faint blip in His radar, so to speak; as an Immortal Entity, the beginnings and ends of worlds, or universes for that matter, were little more than small details in His mind.

However, in this instance, it was completely different. Iris Potter had achieved the long coveted position of Master of Death and, as mentioned previously, the Entity had been really looking forward to have some entertainment in His usually rather dull existence. Needless to say, He hadn’t appreciated that some measly human had cut His fun rather short.

Now, every other Immortal Deity and Entity out there would easily agree that, among them all, Death was one of the most balanced ones, temper-wise. All of them would concur as well that _Very Bad Things_ happened when His famous Emotional Control was lost. It didn’t occur often, but when it did, the event would be rather unforgettable – for the Immortals, that is. Worlds would end, Galaxies would implode and Universes would disappear altogether, when Death unleashed His all-compassing power upon the unlucky mortals who dared to displease Him.

Through millennia, mortals had given it many names: Apocalypse, Armageddon, Judgement Day.

As soon as Death had summoned His three ‘brothers’ to His presence, every Immortal knew that another such event would happen in the near future. There was only a single conclusion when Death, Famine, War and Pestilence gathered together.

The Four Horsemen were ready and the Apocalypse was once more upon the mortal world.

* * *

Although the Immortals could not interfere directly upon the mortal world, that didn’t mean they could not subtly manipulate certain events to their benefits. They only needed for the mortals giving them the ‘tools’ and then they would direct them in the right directions.

After Death’s ultimate decision, it had taken a few years for His plans to take shape. At first, there was nothing that could be done, but He knew the right chance would arrive soon; He had always been a very patient being.

Around twenty years after Iris Potter’s incarceration, the Wizarding World was ‘officially’ found out by the Muggles – more precisely by the ‘religious’ kind. To say they were hostile was a very big understatement; the traumatic Salem Witch Trials were like a school-yard brawl in comparison.

Thus, with little input from the Immortals, War was the first to mark the beginning of the end – not that the mortals were aware of what was to come.

For many gruelling years, the Magicals fought for their lives against the Muggles who most had always thought were weaker and beneath themselves. It didn’t take long for them to realize that they had been very, very wrong.

Many from the Light Side recalled what Albus Dumbledore had often preached about the Muggles and cursed themselves for being such blind and gullible fools. The Dark Side felt both smugly and grimly vindictive when they finally had been proven right when they said Muggles were a danger to the Magical Society. Not that that really helped them now – there were no more distinctions between Dark and Light, there was only survival and instincts in their minds as all of them did their level best to live another day.

At first, some Muggle-born and Muggle-raised magicals had tried to make things right with their opposition or reach a compromise, however after being some of the first ones being killed by unforgiving massive weapons and advanced technology, they had quickly changed their tune and had to fight for their lives just like everyone else. The Muggles seemed to hate them even more than the Pureblood magicals due to some skewed idea that they had betrayed their own world to side with the enemy, or the ‘spawns from evil’ as they chose to label the Magicals.

One such Muggle-Born was Hermione Granger. Death had pulled many strings to allow her to live as long as possible, making her suffering lasting in revenge for metaphorically stabbing His Mistress in the back.

(Whoever had said that Death was forgiving must have been high or drunk or both.)

Another one was Albus Dumbledore. Granted, he was practically immortal, but in no way invincible. The Philosopher’s Stone helped prolong his life; however it didn’t cure him from any ailments he had attained due to the Muggle Attacks. He had lived until his last breath as a crippled and suffering old man. Death had somehow managed to inform him that all this had been his own fault and the wizard had spent the rest of his days constantly cursing his past deeds and wondering where exactly he had gone wrong and what he could have done differently, but never really regretting his mistakes or assuming any blame for what had happened. Death hadn’t been sympathetic in any way; on the contrary, He had gleefully watched every minute of it, finally feeling a modicum of retribution for the atrocity Dumbledore had done when he had imprisoned His Mistress and had robbed Him of his rightful and much awaited entertainment.

(In her spirit form, Iris had witnessed it all and thanked Death for his ‘thoughtfulness’.)

After that, Famine was the second to descend upon the Earth.

Due to the war zones and battlefields everywhere, naturally nourishment was scarce even though a great part of the inhabitants of the planet had died in the war – most in the cross-fire between the two factions.

Almost hand in hand, Pestilence arrived next. All the nuclear and other toxic weapons the Muggles had used started to contaminate the Earth and began to affect the people. Diseases and all kinds of viruses spread quickly and there was not much anyone could do. Neither muggle medicine or protection gears nor magical spells or potions were able to save them from the certain death that awaited all living things.

And then, finally, Death Himself triumphantly descended and took every soul still remaining – which was a rather limited number – into His unforgiving grasp.

* * *

Iris Potter had watched the world steadily decline until there was absolutely nothing left.

It was something that she couldn’t really wrap her mind around, the fact that now she was the only living being on this planet. There wasn’t a single plant or animal roaming the Earth.

Not long after her unfair imprisonment, she had met Death Himself inside her mind and had been told of her accidental achievement and subsequent virtual immortality and that, in turn, had been the reason for her precarious situation.

Understandably, she had raged and cried at first.

Iris got over it eventually, though. If there was something she had learned in her short life was that many unexpected and often impossible things happened to her and that she had to roll with it if she didn’t want to drown in self-pity and become insane with the thoughts of the unfairness of it all. So, she adapted.

The fact that she could travel spiritually around the world had also helped a great deal. The chance to understand and gather answers to her many questions were welcome as well. She may have not liked them but she was glad for having them nonetheless.

Death had gleefully and carelessly explained what would happen to the world and Iris could only watch it all happen and never be affected by any of it.

Oh, the witch wasn’t under any illusion that Death really much cared for her well-being. No, the closest she could assume her importance to be in Death’s priorities was like she was a favoured toy that had been taken away and the Entity had thrown a temper tantrum of veritable epic proportions – something like her cousin Dudley would do as a kid, but in much greater and destructive proportions.

However, after years of being a mere shade of her former self and all the negative emotions that she had felt when been told of the truth reasons and happenings of the fateful day she had been imprisoned, Iris had come to be a rather different person personality-wise and wouldn’t go out of her way to try and please everyone as she foolishly had done in the past. She had long ago transcended the point where she cared about what others thought of her – mortals and Immortals alike. The heart she had worn so carelessly on her sleeve had hardened and blackened after that ultimate betrayal and now one goal dominated her mind: make them pay for all the suffering she had gone through. Sure, it was gratifying seeing what became of them due to Death’s anger fit but it wasn’t really the same as if she, herself, dished out the retribution.

Death had been rather happy to enlighten her Mistress that her wish was easy to accomplish. When the world was completely destroyed, life and magic would be no more and then the blasted ancient wards that bounded Iris would finally fall and she would be free again.

After that, it was a simple matter, Death had confidently assured her. Iris would be transported to another dimension in the past – practically a mirror-image of this one at least until ‘92, the point of divergence being that the ‘Iris Potter’ of this new world allegedly would not survive the basilisk’s poisoned bite and thus die in the Chamber of Secrets, steering the future in a very different direction – and then the young witch could start her own plans for revenge.

Eagerly, Death couldn’t wait – finally, finally, some real entertainment after all those centuries waiting; his non-existent heart was almost pounding in anticipation.


	2. STEP ONE - REBOOT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Iris goes back in time to when everything started. She doesn’t lose time in shocking the goblins speechless a few times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan on starting the ‘revenge’ part soon (there are a few chapters to go until then, though). Keep in mind, though, that Iris will start mildly – at pranking level, so to speak – and progress from there. After all, it won’t do to kill them outright.  
> Where is the fun in that?
> 
> As always, share your thoughts.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

‘’Chaos reigns within. Reflect, repent, reboot. Order shall return.’’ – Suzie Wagner

* * *

 

STEP ONE – REBOOT

**August 2 nd, 1991**

As she had previously planned with Death, Iris Potter had dropped in the new timeline/universe two days after she had met Hagrid and had been escorted to Diagon Alley for the first time. She had taken over her other-self’s body easily as both minds merged together, but with the older one’s mentality in absolute control.

Unfortunately, she could still easily recall those awful days – even after all the years she had spent imprisoned and forgotten by the world and nothing more than an invisible wraith. Her uncle had been particularly vicious when Iris had returned home from the magical alley that evening and had been very clear with his orders of what the ‘Freak’ was allowed and, more importantly, not allowed to share with the other ‘Freaks’ when she went to ‘that Freaky School’.

Needless to say, Iris had been easily intimidated and compliant the first time around and spent the next painful three days locked and starved in Dudley’s second bedroom barely moving and all her new belongings promptly locked in her cupboard under the stairs.

Iris had chosen this particular day to restart her new life mainly for a significant reason: the blatant evidence of her abuse under the Dursley’s care was very clear but the pain from the numerous bruises and sprained wrist were dulled by now so she didn’t have much trouble moving around due to her exceptionally high pain tolerance. Granted, she could easily cast a numbing charm on the affected areas; however she didn’t know if they would later appear in the magical medical scan report, thus she didn’t want to risk it. As she saw it, the physically worse she appeared to be to the healer, the better it would be for Iris’ case in the long run.

To start with, Iris’ plan was fairly simple and then she would play it by ear, mostly. She had never been – and she doubted she would ever be – someone who made complex plans and had never been fond of strictly following them either, so really there was not much surprise there.

(Sure, now she could kill everyone who had hurt her once and be done with it, but she had learned after becoming Mistress of Death that, indeed, there were many things out there much worse than death itself. In her opinion that was the coward’s and easy way out and she wanted to make them suffer as much as possible before they would finally beg for the sweet relief of death. Besides, as she was now practically immortal, Iris had to occupy her time with something interesting to do or she’d eventually turn insane with boredom.)

Another point against elaborate plans was that Death had subtly hinted that not everything would be exactly the same as Iris’ original time and thus the young witch could expect some little surprises that would help ‘spice up the timeline’ as Death casually put it. Even though He couldn’t intervene directly, the immortal Entity was invested in having the most entertainment He could get with His little Mistress this time around.

Anyway, it was still early enough that all her relatives were still sleeping and the now once-again little girl was glad for it. She doubted that her plans would progress as smoothly if there was evidence that she somehow used magic against them. She was sure that she would curse them all to hell and back now that the little good girl who blindly followed the Light Side had died a quick but still quite painful death.

With barely a moment’s thought, Iris silently disappeared from her dismal bedroom at number four, Privet Drive, and appeared as soundlessly in a hidden alley besides Gringotts bank.

She smiled smugly at the accomplishment.

Allegedly, there were anti-apparition wards added to the Blood Wards around number four, however now they were useless against her. In fact, she could apparate anywhere she wished to as long as she knew the location before-hand – even Hogwarts’ or the Ministry’s wards were absolutely useless against her new powers.( The only obvious exception would be the ancient and rare wards like the one which had been used against her by Dumbledore in her original world – which reminded Iris that she needed to destroy any information about them as soon as possible; she wouldn’t allow any kind of power that could possibly harm her in existence as far as she was aware.) As Death had told her, death existed everywhere and there was nothing in this world that could stop the Grim Reapers (Death’s many underlings) from collecting _mortal_ souls when their time among the living was up with the exception of the Invisibility Cloak and the various magical anchors that some wizards created to dodge Death – i.e. Horcruxes.

Previously, Death had given her an overview of her new powers as Mistress of Death and she was eager to try them as soon as she got the chance – naturally, she hadn’t been able to use them much before due to her involuntary incorporeal form.

Iris took a few moments to conjure a long black cloak with a wide hood. She was happy to find that her magical levels hadn’t been reduced to the ones she had once as an eleven years old. If that had been the case, Iris would not be able to do everything she wanted to before she grew up some more, which would only frustrate her to no end.

Face hidden and gait even – despite the dull aches all over her body – she stepped into the bank and quickly approached a free teller.

The goblin looked up from his paperwork after a few seconds and was just opening his mouth but Iris rudely cut him off in no mood to roundabout and meaningless words.

‘’I wish to meet with Chief Ragnok,’’ she stated as confidently as she was able to in her newly acquired childish voice, allowing her eyes to shine an eerily green and staring at the goblin steadily. ‘’There is a rather confidential and urgent matter which needs to be brought to his attention.’’

The creature narrowed his eyes at the small girl in blatant suspicion.

‘’And what matter do you think the director of Gringotts would need to know, little girl?’’, the goblin asked condescendingly, not believing for a second that Iris’ words held any veracity.

Iris bristled at that. It was long past the time that she would let anyone talk down to her, within reason or not. She freed her magic a bit from the constant restrain she had over it and she smiled a cold satisfying smile when the creature in front of her stiffened and widened his eyes in shock. It was true then, goblins were able to feel Death Magic easily unlike magical humans, due to the fact these creatures relied more on their primal instincts.

The teller paled and swallowed with difficulty before speaking, his tone completely different now.

‘’Please, follow me, Miss…?’’

‘’Iris Potter,’’ she informed casually and watched him pale a little bit more if it was possible.

‘’Miss Potter, yes, please follow me,’’ he stuttered slightly as he jumped from his high seat and gestured for her to follow. ‘’I’ll take you to Chief Ragnok immediately.’’

With barely a nod, Iris complied after reining in her magic and trailed after the small creature in silence. With a subtle look around, she was pleased to see that their short exchange had not caught the attention of any other patron.

After a couple of minutes of quiet walking through the maze-like corridors, they finally stopped before a pair of grand wooden doors depicting a war scene where the goblins triumphed over their enemies (in this case, they were humans). The teller knocked heavily upon the door and waited a moment before being given permission to enter. As soon as ‘Enter!’ was heard, the creature pushed the door open and stepped into the room, Iris quickly after him.

The office was quite large but scarcely furnished, though that didn’t deprive the room of its grandeur. At the centre, there was a large mahogany wooden desk which an important and ancient-looking goblin sat behind. Chief Ragnok, the director of Gringotts, British branch – Iris reasonably presumed – stared at the two incomers with both suspicion and curiosity if his raised eyebrows were any indication.

Before the old goblin had any chance to ask questions, Iris released her magic once more to save them all the unnecessary demands and subsequent doubts of the girl’s statements. After all that awful time unable to do anything practical by herself, Iris was more than eager to ‘start the ball rolling’. She had never been a very patient person and after all she went through, now she had none whatsoever and didn’t really care either.

Ragnok almost silently gasped in shock at the first feeling of Death Magic, his eyes widening and mouth open. If the now-small girl wasn’t in such a hurry to start her plan, she would be laughing at the comical picture.

‘’How is that possible?’’, the old goblin asked incredulous when he regained his voice. No one said it out loud but all three of them knew exactly what she was and neither goblin planned on denying the hard facts when they were right in front of their eyes. The question remained, however: how had an eleven years old accomplished such a difficult feat, Girl-Who-Lived or not?

‘’Simply put, I’m a time traveller,’’ Iris said easily with a dismissive hand move, as if that answer was enough to explain how it was possible that a girl who supposedly only discovered the wizarding world two days ago could be the Mistress of Death – which, really, in a way it was.

The statement was partial true, not that she planned on divulging everything to them. Nevertheless, to the goblins, that was more than enough, because travelling to the past – more than a few hours, anyway – was already something earth-shattering to the average magical mortal, no need to say anything more. She intended on working under the approach of ‘need to know’ basis for as long as she could.

‘’Never mind that for the moment,’’ she said almost nonchalantly, taking a seat when she realized that the two creatures were too shocked to remember social courtesies. High pain tolerance or not, her body was still sore and now that she thought of it, a snack would not be amiss either. ‘’Can you tell me the name of the Potter Accounts Manager, Chief Ragnok?’’

The old goblin visibly snapped out of it before he answered without hesitation.

‘’It’s my youngest son, Silvertooth.’’

Iris raised a brow in surprise at that. She had known the name of the goblin responsible for the Potter Accounts – she had found out only after she had been locked up, strangely enough – but she wasn’t aware that he was the Chief’s son.

_Well, this will be easier than I thought_ , she mused, cheerfully.

‘’Are you aware that someone had cast a very strong _Confundus_ , or some version of it, on him ten years ago?’’, the young witch asked bluntly, already foreseeing the explosive reaction to her words.

Indeed, she wasn’t disappointed.

‘’WHAT?’’

The air in the office grew suddenly hot and heavy with Ragnok’s anger and outrage. The old goblin stood up and glared down at Iris – they were about the same height, but since she was seated, the creature was easily able to – his eyes alone demanding to know who was the responsible of such a heinous crime against Gringotts and the Goblin Nation.

Already used to Death’s unnerving stare (which she had witnessed more than enough times inside her mind-escape), Iris remained unshaken by such an intimidating act. Nonetheless, she answered the unspoken demand blandly.

‘’Albus Dumbledore.’’

‘’Are you sure of this?’’, the Chief asked through gritted teeth after he had recovered somewhat from his indignation, never averting his eyes from the human girl’s. ‘’It’s a very severe accusation, Miss Potter.’’

‘’Absolutely,’’ Iris confirmed without hesitation, as she crossed her skinny arms in front of her chest. She quickly thought better of it, though, when her wrist sharply reminded her that she wasn’t very healthy at the moment. ‘’In the future, this offense was found out by sheer happenstance. However, by then it was already too late, as the old man was already dead.’’

This was completely true. Dumbledore’s transgression had been discovered too late; it had been a few years after Iris had disappeared from the Wizarding World, in fact. There had been some kind of accident and the goblin in question was hurt and after being seen by a goblin healer, they had found out the spell upon him. In her incorporeal form, Iris had witnessed the immense outrage from the goblin nation against the Ministry – as the old wizard was already dead, or so everyone believed, they had aimed their fury at the Ministry – and she had thought that this would convert in yet another goblin war. Luckily for the British Magical Community, the situation didn’t go that far. Not that really mattered much in the end to their future, but still.

Ragnok seemed deep in thought for a moment before he snapped out of it and ordered his subject – who had been practically forgotten amidst the shocking revelations – to call his son and a healer right away.

As soon as the door closed, Iris’ stomach loudly demanded attention.

‘’I apologize, it’s been almost two days since I’ve last eaten,’’ she said without any shame. She had, since a long time ago, come to terms with the Dursley’s abuse and now understood that none of it had been her fault unlike what she had been taught to believe when she was younger.

Ragnok showed surprise at that confession but thankfully didn’t comment. He simply tapped on his desk in some kind of pattern that the girl didn’t know. A few seconds later, a large tray appeared on the desktop between both of them; upon it there was a tea set with milk and sugar, and plates with small sandwiches and pastries.

‘’Please, be my guest.’’

Iris didn’t need any more incentive. She quickly prepared a cup of tea and ate a bite-sized sandwich. She closed her eyes for a moment in pleasure. Gods, how long had it been since she last ate or drank anything?

While the girl blissfully filled her sorely empty stomach for the first time in Merlin knew how long, the goblin recovered from his fit of rage and took his seat again. He prepared a tea cup as well and for a few minutes both were mostly silent.

Around ten minutes later, there was a knock on the grand doors before the teller from before stepped into the room with two other goblins quickly behind.

Without preamble, Ragnok succinctly explained the situation and ordered the healer to verify Iris’ words. The healer promptly did so and easily confirmed them as truth when he found two wizarding-nature spells on Silvertooth, dating from ’81.

To say that Ragnok was enraged was putting it mildly. The old goblin was almost frothing at the mouth in his fury, his magic hot and wild in the office. His son was not much better temper-wise; after all, he had been bested by a wizard and no one had been the wiser for almost ten years. This not only offended him, but all of Gringotts as well.

Iris remained silent through it all as her mind wondered about the unexpected information. She had only known about the _Confundus_ spell – it had been the only one they had found on the goblin in her world. This begged the question, though: what happened differently in this time to make Dumbledore doubly commit a crime against Gringotts?

‘’What are the spells and can you reverse them?’’, the Chief demanded through gritted teeth.

Upon further inspection, the healer was able to answer confidently.

‘’A variation of _Confundus_ , a mild one, as Miss Potter had indicated, and before that there is a memory that has been firmly blocked, so an _Obliviate_. I can reverse the Memory Charm right away and I suspect that the other will automatically dissipate as they are connected.’’

Ragnok impatiently urged the Healer to get on with it with an irritated gesture of the hand and, thus, a couple of minutes later, Silvertooth was furiously swearing up a storm in Gobbledegook – or so it seemed to Iris – before  turning to his father and continuing to argue in their native tongue.

After the healer was sharply dismissed, Iris finally broke her silence to demand answers.

‘’So…  Anyone’d care to explain to me what that was all about?’’, she asked with a raised brow in a no-nonsense tone. ‘’And before you begin, Chief Ragnok,’’ she quickly added when she saw that the old goblin was preparing to rebuke her and deny her information, ‘’Dumbledore did this to gain control of myself and my money so I’d say that this matter is very pertinent to me.’’

Ragnok nodded in agreement to her words, albeit clearly grudgingly. Iris expanded her Death Magic once more to remind them all who she actually was – the Mistress of Death and not a naïve little witch. The message was received and clearly understood, if the stiffening of the three goblins was any indication.

‘’Dumbledore first cast the memory charm to make me forget that Lily Potter had come to Gringotts and changed her Last Will about two months before her death,’’ Silvertooth explained as he looked directly at Iris, his tone cool and respectful, mindful of who he was exactly speaking to. Their race could hate wizards and witches all they wanted but they would be utter idiots to ever dismiss such great power when directly confronted with it. ‘’Apparently, she had made it secretly without anyone else’s knowing, not even her husband and thus I was the only one knowing of it. As that would be the Will which would be of importance, and not the one from James Potter’s, since she had died last, Dumbledore didn’t want it to be read, by absolutely no means, because it would be very opposite to his plans, or so he suspected anyway. How Dumbledore had found out about it, I do not know – regardless of his powers, it’s simply impossible to him having read my mind or any other goblin’s for that matter; like werewolves, for example, we have natural, strong Occlumency shields and I can say for certain that they haven’t been bypassed to view any memory. The most he could do – and actually did – was blocking away the knowledge of that new Will and subtly infiltrate his own strong suggestions stating that the Wills had been already executed and had nothing of extraordinary. Thus it made me believe that the Potter’s Wills had been indeed read with the _Confundus_. Naturally, he couldn’t simply Obliviate it as well as it would raise questions about the fact that there were no Wills from a wealthy couple who was fighting in a war and that would be beyond suspicious – so they had left everything to their spouse if the other remained alive, otherwise the entire contents would be given to their only child, however never mentioning any possible guardians, besides the godparents, who as everyone knows weren’t conceivable choices anyway.’’

Iris suspected that the old man had found out subtly using Legillimency on her mother, it was something he had no compunctions of doing whenever he wanted to know information which was not willing given to him directly, as she could attest herself from her years at Hogwarts. Sometimes, it was simply impossible for the Headmaster to know some things that he otherwise would be unaware of. Then, she wondered what possibly Lily had written in her new Will that Dumbledore would rather Obliviate a goblin than taking the risk of the _Confundus_ Charm being broken later on.

_Some other possible guardian? A statement about Pettigrew being the Secret Keeper?_ That was something that was puzzling her greatly. In her world, that had never happened, so it was something that occurred only on this one, she reasoned to herself. _But, what could it be?_

‘’You’re right, the biggest reason for Dumbledore to cast the spells was that this way he could be easily and legally deemed my magical guardian upon petition in the Wizengamot, as there wasn’t another appointed guardian by my parents – seeing that Alice Longbottom was a permanent patient in St. Mungo’s and Sirius Black was in Azkaban –, and thus freely control my whole life, from where I live to my own money,’’ Iris said bitterly as she thought about that hateful old man and everything he’d done and would do – not that she’d allow it now – to ruin her life. ‘’That’s why I’m here now, though.  Despite the underhanded ways he went about to accomplish it, the old man is indeed my magical guardian, and he does have too much control over me. However, I plan on using his own despicable plans against him as I won’t be a moment more under his thumb than I can possibly allow. Even though I doubt there is someone else mentioned in the Wills to be my guardian. Remus Lupin couldn’t be, as he’s a registered werewolf. I prefer taking my chances than continue as I am, though.’’

The three goblins seemed to be very interested in what she had to say – evidently, they were all for taking revenge against someone who had wronged them in any way possible, legal or not. For a moment, Iris relished in that fact. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had just been there and truly listened to what she had to say and honestly considered her words before offering a genuine opinion.

‘’In my time, the Goblin Nation was up in arms demanding compensation from the Ministry – as Dumbledore was already dead and his reputation was very tarnished. For a while, it seemed that it would escalate into another Goblin War but thankfully the Ministry relented and both parties managed to reach a compromise,’’ Iris went on explaining, after she took another sip from her tea. ‘’But in all honesty, this time it would be nearly impossible for you to achieve anything similar, Chief Ragnok. For one, Dumbledore is still very much alive and seen by most Wizarding World as the Lord of the Light, as close as a god as one could get and still be human, he can do no wrong in the masses’ eyes at the moment. The Ministry would brutally fight against you, especially as they are currently trying to pass numerous laws to restrict any magical creature’s freedom as much as they possibly can. The outcome would be violent, bloody and – no offense to the Goblin Nation – I am not sure who would end victorious in the end. There are simply too many unknown odds at the present. Secondly, our world cannot afford any kind of war at the moment – regardless if it’s the Goblins against Dumbledore and subsequently the Ministry or even the Light against the Dark.’’

‘’How so?’’, Ragnok asked, interrupting Iris for the first time, tone clearly curious. He had been attentively listening to everything the girl had been saying and, for the most part, he had to – begrudgingly – agree that what she had said about Dumbledore was completely true. He knew that starting an outright open fight against the old powerful wizard would be a decision which would bring heavy repercussions not only for his race but eventually to the whole of the Wizarding World; however, he couldn’t simply just brush off what the old man had done. Still, if the Chief had understood right, Iris didn’t state that they couldn’t do anything about it, only that they had to go about it in a more underhanded way, which, he reckoned, was not so bad at all.

Iris looked the old goblin directly in the eye, trying to convey the gravity of the words she would say next. She may not hold much love for the goblins or the majority of the Magical World, really, however, she despised Muggles even more and them being the main culprits of the annihilation of her world (she chose to ignore that Death had not-so-slightly helped moving the chaos and destruction along). It was safe to say that they were indisputably considered the biggest enemy by her (with the very clear exception of Dumbledore obviously, but the old man was in a different class of his own) and thus needed to be defended against and crushed at all costs.

‘’In the future, the Muggles discovered us world-widely and had no compunctions in obliterating us by any means possible. In fact, they were so reckless and determined in their destruction of all Magical Beings that they ended up ruin the Earth and thus killing each and every living on the planet, including themselves. The few remaining witches and wizards were absolutely powerless to stop what have been called by many as the Apocalypse.’’

Ragnok and the other two were shocked speechless for a long moment. They didn’t want to believe it, naturally, that the same magicless humans their race and so many others considered beneath them were even capable of such a terrifying feat. However, Ragnok couldn’t think of any reason for Iris Potter, the Mistress of Death herself, lying about such a thing. She didn’t need to make the goblins hate the Muggles because it was no secret they already did.

Understanding the complex emotions that might be coursing through the creatures, Iris decided to show a few memories from her time when the war was at its peak. She didn’t believe that Ragnok would accuse her of lying. She knew, though, that this information was simply too much staggering to take in. So, she asked for a Pensieve and proceeded in showing them what Muggles when determined enough were capable of doing, taking care to not show anything she didn’t want them to know, such as her incorporeal form and Death’s intervention in the proceedings.


	3. STEP TWO - AN UNHOLLY ALLIANCE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Mistress of Death and the Goblins sign a frightening alliance and all of them look forward to their profits.

‘’I’d rather be a devil in alliance with the truth than an angel in alliance with falsehood.’’ – Ludwig Andreas Feuerbach

* * *

 

STEP TWO – AN UNHOLY ALLIANCE

To say the goblins were stunned was to put it very mildly. The three of them were violently swearing in Gobbledegook when they left the Pensieve while Iris had stayed behind nursing another cup of hot tea.

‘’Now you understand when I said that we can’t afford to lose time and lives in fights against other magicals,’’ she said when the creatures had calmed down significantly, each nursing their own cup of relaxing brew. ‘’With this, I am not saying that we should just forgive and forget, no. What I mean, is that we need to take this through another route, so to speak. Dumbledore was and is always speaking in the behalf of Muggles rights, even though it’s only a façade for his true machinations. The Light Side takes his words as gospel while the old man’s reputation is as virtuous and irreproachable as it is at the moment. So when the time comes to the Muggles attacking again, they will be entirely unprepared as they did last time. Now, I know that the Goblin Nation doesn’t really care for Wizards or Witches, especially from the Light Side – and believe me when I say that I share your dislike for them –, however, the Wizarding World is not that large when compared to the existing billions of Muggles, so we need to have as much people fighting as possible or we will easily fall again just like last time.

‘’As I see it, we have some advantages this time. Firstly, I have prior knowledge of what’s to come, so we can act accordingly and proactively. Secondly, the second war against Voldemort still hasn’t happen and, if I have my way, will not happen this time; thus there are still many magicals alive now – humans and creatures alike – from both sides who would have otherwise perished in that war. True, with my Death’s powers I would not have great difficulty in turning the war against the Muggles in our favour, however, I will not be the Light Saviour that people expect me to be and I don’t plan on saving the sheep if they act like last time, simply waiting that a barely magically educated child do their dirty job for them as they cower under their beds in fear, one day hailing me as the hero and the other treating me as a pariah.’’

Ragnok listened attentively as his mind worked overtime to process everything he had discovered in the last hour. The memories had left him reeling and for a split second he had wished to deny what he had seen. Yet, he had never been one to deny the reality and bury his head in the sand of denial like most witches and wizards were wont to do when the happenings in their world didn’t correspond with their views and expectations. He had quickly snap out of it and started to think objectively of what he had seen.

True, like most magicals, he had considered Muggles far beneath him and practically harmless before the mighty power of magic. However, these gruesome images had opened his eyes to how wrong he (and every goblin) had been in misjudging them and he had taken care to watch what the Muggles could actually really do against magic users. Ragnok was a seasoned goblin and warrior, but even he had felt powerless against the enormous power of Muggles’ massive destruction weapons, which could kill hundreds or even thousands from a distance without the Muggles having to do much more than punching some buttons. It had been utterly eye-opening and downright frightening.

One thing the Chief had understood clearly from Iris’ words was that the young witch didn’t plan to help anyone if they simply sat back and waited to be saved. It was something Ragnok absolutely approved of. The goblins were a warrior race and had never shied away from a confrontation, even though usually they were smart enough to understand which battles they could take – which, unfortunately, wasn’t the case of the magical humans. In his opinion, they were lazy and had a sheep mentality, following the designed ‘shepherd’ of the time to go about deciding the future of their world. And seeing as the present ‘shepherd’ was none other than Albus  Dumbledore – even though Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, foolishly believed to be the one to guide the Magical Community – then Ragnok knew without a doubt that most people were in for a rude awakening in their expectations of the Girl-Who-Lived. Dumbledore had been saying for years that Iris Potter was being loved and cared for by her family in the muggle world and one only needed to look at the girl’s physical appearance – bruises everywhere, at least a sprained wrist, far too thin to the point of emaciation, the clothes that were no better than overgrown rags and, last but not the least, she looked like an eight-years-old instead of eleven – to realize that those words were far from the truth. He was aware that with the kind of power she undeniably possessed, Iris would have no issue in healing herself and transfigure her ‘clothes’ in something more respectable and appropriate. The fact that she didn’t so told him straight away that the young witch planned on using this to her benefit and blemish Dumbledore’s reputation in the same breath, since the old man was her magical guardian but appeared to have been doing an awfully poor job of it.

‘’However, it’s still too early to worry about the muggles,’’ Iris continued, unaware of Ragnok’s train of thoughts. ‘’The first order of business is for you, Ragnok, to tell me where the Goblin Nation stands in the matter of my freeing myself from Dumbledore’s power and any matters that I’ll have to take care of in the future. Can I consider you an ally or an enemy?’’, she asked bluntly, staring the old goblin in the eye, the others completely forgotten. ‘’Please, be warned that this is a one-time only offer.’’

Iris decided that she would not beat around the bush on this one. She had no patience to try and convince the goblins of the advantages of being on her side. They were smart enough that they could recognize those for themselves without having someone point them out. She had only these two options: they were with her or against her; there were no ‘maybe’ or ‘if’ about it. This was the only time she would speak of it; if they chose to reject her, they would never have the opportunity to do so again and would be considered her enemy from then on.

Ragnok thought for a while, half-heartily weighting the pros and cons (which as far as he could see, there weren’t any of the latter – the girl being ultimately the leader of their alliance not bothering him as much as he would have expected, due to the undeniable, tremendous power she exclusively held), not wishing to show the girl how eager he was to accept her offer of an alliance, even if everyone in the office knew it. Sharing the same side with the Mistress of Death and the Girl-Who-Live was benefit enough in his eyes, not to mention that the Goblin Nation would be basically protected from the wrath of Death’s Mistress when an enemy would eventually anger her beyond reason. In fact, he was looking forward to see it.

The point that it was a one-time offer spoke loudly of her plans and personality, he thought. Iris Potter was not someone to offer second-chances and would firmly view the Goblin Nation as her enemy if Ragnok would be foolish enough to ever reject this alliance; their power against the Mistress of Death didn’t even compare and the girl clearly knew it.

‘’The Goblin Nation will stand firmly at your side, Miss Potter,’’ Ragnok ultimately stated in an officious tone, showing no doubt or regret. ‘’Gringotts will help you in everything you might require, as long as we do not need to break our own laws in order to do so, obviously.’’

‘’Good,’’ she assented, glad that the first hurdle was overcome, ‘’I believe a magical binding contract would be best to assuage anyone concerned with the matter.’’

Which everyone in the room inwardly translated to: every goblin was bound by duty and magic to follow this contract, or they would suffer an untimely demise due to their foolish and traitorous actions – she wasn’t taking any chances. Iris knew Ragnok was more than eager to ally the goblins to her, the advantages of such a union easily seen and appreciated. Only a fool or a Dumbledore’s staunch follower – which she considered being roughly the same – would refuse such an incredible offer and goblins might be many things but stupid and dim were not one of them. So she was quite assured that there would be no problems from them, however, the time she had trusted blindly had passed long ago and she felt more settled with a magical contract in place, even though she believed there wasn’t much they could do against her, but still.

Ragnok agreed with her suggestion and they quickly worked over a simple, but magically-binding, contract that worked to both parties in a satisfying manner. After signing it with a blood quill – Iris had to restrain herself for setting it on fire as soon as her eyes caught sight of it –, the contract was finished and Iris decided to move things along, now that she was sure that the goblins were firmly on her side.

‘’As you no doubt noticed, my upbringing at the hands of my Muggle relatives,’’ she sneered at those words, almost spitting them out with clear disgust – it was an odd sight, the goblins mused in unanimity, in the face of a malnourished little girl who some people would say that usually looked almost angelic, if the bruising was ignored –, ‘’was far from positive. Needless to say, they hate me as much as I hate them and they never lost an opportunity to let me know of their feelings. My plan is to show the Wizarding World how the Great Albus Dumbledore has been lying to them for years about their precious Saviour and at the same time make them see that Muggles aren’t  so harmless and benevolent as many blindly believe them to be.’’

Ragnok nodded along to what Iris said, as he had been expecting something like that.

‘’Do you have already decided on a way to go about it?’’

‘’Of course,’’ the skinny girl granted with a wicked smirk in her thin, pale face; her eyes shining in glee. ‘’What better way to do it than announcing to the world how poor, delicate, little Iris Potter – the hailed precious saviour of the Wizarding World – suffered for ten years at the hands of her cruel family never knowing her magical heritage and being told frequently that her parents were drunks who died in a car crash? I’m sure any reporter from the Daily Prophet would kill for an interview with the Girl-Who-Lived, don’t you agree?’’

The goblins smirked alongside with her, understanding the girl’s tactic, not reacting in any outward way to the information given about her childhood.

‘’Before that, though, I need to transfer my guardianship from Dumbledore,’’ she continued, losing her smirk and acquiring a thoughtful expression. ‘’There’s this solicitor I know of from the future, her name is Aurora Duval, who absolutely loathes Dumbledore and swore revenge on him due to her father’s suspicious death. She’s a well-respected and successful witch, who doesn’t care for magic affiliations as long as it doesn’t involve corruption and the like. I’m sure that she’ll accept my legal case in a heartbeat as soon as you explain a bit about my less-than-stellar childhood and mention ‘ruin Dumbledore’.  She’s a very straight-laced professional but in this case, I’m fairly confident that with the appropriate incentive, she would not much care what she had to do to destroy the old man.’’

‘’Do you wish her to know about your extraordinary circumstances?’’, Ragnok asked as he pulled a sheet of parchment from the stack at his side, readying himself to begin an official letter to the lawyer in question.

Iris had thought about it for a while before and had decided that she would tell the woman that she had come from the future but nothing about being the Mistress of Death; everything else that didn’t include Dumbledore and what he had done to Iris after the war would be obviously kept secret. Later on, if she thought the woman needed to know anything else, Iris would decide then.

‘’After she accepts the job and signs a secrecy contract, I will let her know that I came from the future, however I intend on being vague about most things and the fact that I am the Mistress of Death is to be kept secret at all costs,’’ she looked directly in Ragnok’s eyes as she stated this last part. If he or the two other occupants of the room ever mentioned something about this to her solicitor or someone else, they would certainly not last long in the land of the living, due to breaking the magical contract she and Ragnok – in the Goblin Nation’s name – had just signed.

Ragnok merely nodded at the silent warning and quickly penned the letter, before giving it to the teller, who had still remained in the room with them all that time, and promptly left to send the missive.

As they would have to wait some time for the solicitor’s response, Iris enquired about her parents’ Wills and Silvertooth left as well to go retrieve them.  Now that he remembered exactly what had happened ten years ago, he could open them and search as well for the one he had been Obliviated about.

‘’I know that Dumbledore is my magical guardian and thus can manage my trust vault,’’ Iris delicately started after she had been left alone with Ragnok. She didn’t want to appear as if she was accusing Gringotts of mismanagement of money; he would surely be furious at that, which it wasn’t her intention at all. ‘’However, I’d like to know how much money he has been taking out since ’81, if any, since I’ve never received a Knut of it.’’

Ragnok made her bleed three drops in a special parchment – it was faster than going out and search for the necessary folders, he promptly explained to her – and not long after, a copy of all transactions to and from her trust vault appeared clearly black in white. She ignored everything before her parents’ death, though she idly noted that the vault had been created three months before her birthdate.

With mounting fury, she read that the Dursley’s had received a large monthly allowance supposedly for her care since November of ’81. Now that she thought more about it, Iris realized that the money her uncle made from his job could never be enough to pay for everything they owned throughout the years she lived with them. True, Vernon Dursley had a reasonably good job and salary, but could never conceivably afford all Dudley’s pricey and numerous demands and still have any money left until his next pay-check.

Iris suddenly felt sick. Every time Dudley received something from his parents, it had been bought with Iris’ money, the same money that should have been used to help take care of her as she grew up. Every time they insulted her, beat her and said that she had to work for her keep, completing lists of chores unreasonably long, while they lazed about and enjoyed their new purchases, it had been Iris’ money that cushioned their comfortable way of life. She had to be grateful for every scrap of food they allowed her and the over-sized rags that had been at one point Dudley’s clothes. And all this time, they had enjoyed a very good life with her money while she slaved away like a dutiful and ill-treated house-elf.

The air in the office was suddenly cold, which was a reaction to Iris’ rage as her magic responded to her negative emotions, very unlike Ragnok’s, which was hot when angered. As the seconds passed, the temperature dropped below zero, and the goblin almost expected to see a Dementor swoop in his office at any moment. Iris seemed to not notice what was happening, however, focused as she was in the damning parchment in front of her.

She was somewhat relieved that Dumbledore had not taken any money for himself. She suspected that it didn’t have anything to do with the goodness of his heart but instead due to the fact that the funds were not that much after Dursley’s payments and Iris needed to have enough money for all seven years of schooling. It would be suspicious if Iris didn’t have the money for school supplies and it was possible that someone would look into it and enquire the goblins. Another good thing was that no one, not even her legal guardian, could access the main Potter Vault, and was basically locked down until her seventeenth birthday or if she managed to be granted an early emancipation somehow. Prior Investments and other business were overseen by the Potter Manager Accountant, as was usually their job, however he couldn’t take any money from the main vault to make investments and the like, that hadn’t been previously decided before the elders Potter’s deaths.

Then, at the very bottom of the list, she noticed that the old man had signed for a permanent monthly allowance to start taking effect in the 1st September under the name of one Ronald Weasley.

Iris saw red.

For several moments, the office underwent a drastic change in temperature and décor. It turned colder if at all possible, Ragnok’s stuttering breath materializing in front of him as a white fog, and from the ceiling grew stalactites, the floor and halls froze over and amidst it all, the Mistress of Death continued seated, her eyes shining a brilliant and sickly green, not unlike the Killing Curse. The freezing temperature didn’t seem to affect her and she remained oblivious to anything around her as she kept on staring at the parchment, her eyes unseeing and mind very far away.

Just as Ragnok couldn’t stand it any longer – he was feeling like his life was reaching its end and at any moment he would stare frighteningly Death in the face, sure evidence that this human little girl was indeed the Mistress of Death, not that he had doubted it –, Iris seemed to snap out of it and the room slowly returned to what once was, making the goblin sighing thankfully in relief.

Iris was annoyed with herself. She couldn’t lose control like that any time there was something that angered her. Like that, she was sure that someone would quickly suspect that she wasn’t really who she wanted to portray to the rest of the world. After all, poor, naïve, little Iris Potter only recently learned about the Magical World and she was a helpless and untrained child who suffered at the hands of her relatives for ten years; she was not some powerful and frightening witch that could almost emulate Dementors’ oppressive and chilling powers when furious.

Iris didn’t apologize for what just happened and Ragnok wisely didn’t comment on it. Both silently decided that was best to simply forget that the last couple of minutes ever happened and move on.

‘’As soon as the guardianship is transferred, I want both monthly allowances cancelled. I will demand as well that every Knut be return to my vault with interest,’’ she finally said, giving the parchment to Ragnok so that he could understand what she was talking about. She didn’t want to explain any of that out loud; she feared she would lose control again. ‘’Gringotts can go about it in any way they see fit; as long as the money is returned, I really don’t care.’’

Ragnok smirked wickedly at the thought of having _carte-blanche_ to retrieve misappropriated funds from those filthy Muggles. It didn’t even bear mention that Gringotts would demand the highest interest rate they could get away with. He could already see it in his mind: those wretched excuses of human beings would be left penniless even before they could be tried for the mistreatment of their niece. He was looking forward to it.

Iris saw the goblin’s blood-thirsty reaction to her allowance but couldn’t care less of what he intended to do to recover the money. She had more important things to think about at the moment. Not that she was worried, mind, if anything she would be curious to know how Gringotts usually dealt with cases of embezzlement of funds when they could go all out to rectify the situation.

Anyway, she was aware that this transfer of guardianship was a shot in the dark. She had no idea if her mother had added someone else to the list; Iris couldn’t think of possible custodians besides perhaps Minerva McGonagall or Augusta Longbottom. In any case, she’d rather take her chances.

If, due to the lack of appointed guardians, she somehow ended up with a Death Eater’s family like the Malfoy’s, for example, it was not like she was defenceless. Actually, it would be better than to end up in a Light family who sucked up to Dumbledore. Any self-respecting Dark family valued power and Iris’ was beyond their dreams, even stronger than Voldemort’s, and anything but light. She was sure that she could bring them to her way of thinking very quickly, even if she had to use not-so-legal and not-morally-right methods to open their eyes to the reality of their new circumstances.

At that point, Silvertooth returned with the Potter’s Wills and Iris didn’t lose time in reading them. There was mention of different amounts of money being bequeathed to several people in James’ Will, besides his wife evidently: Remus Lupin, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew included. Besides Sirius and Alice Longbottom’s appointment to be his daughter’s guardians, Minerva McGonagall was as well. Iris was sure that Dumbledore hadn’t been happy when he didn’t receive anything, even though he had signed as a witness.

Lily’s Will, however, was a different matter.

Iris had skimmed the invalid one and sure enough, almost anything had been the same as her husband’s Will, even the amounts of money and receivers and appointed guardians, with only the exception being Alice’s bequest.

Now, the effective one was completely different. For one, there was no mention of Pettigrew; it seemed that her mother had suspected the rat and didn’t trust him. Secondly, it had been Silvertooth himself who had signed as a witness, which was no surprise. Besides that, the only other alteration was the additional appointed guardian, which it had replaced McGonagall’s previously position.

Iris gaped inelegantly at that. She couldn’t believe her own eyes.

\---

_’If these two people are unable to take in and raise my daughter, I appoint Severus Snape as my last choice. Hours before I penned this Will, he Vowed to me that he would do everything in his power to protect and help Iris. Despite our past differences, we finally reached an understanding and I know he will be able to properly raise Iris and prepare her for the trying future that awaits her. Additionally, if he’s the one chosen, there is a letter that should be given to him before he’s told of my wishes. After he reads it, I’m certain that he will not refuse._

_In no way do I wish my daughter to live with my sister’s family. She loathes our world and our way of living and I just know she would crush my beloved daughter’s spirit even before she started Hogwarts.’_

_\---_

What. The. Hell?

Faintly, Iris could hear Death laughing uproariously in the back of her mind. He had warned her that there would be some differences from her own world but she hadn’t exactly expected this.

 _I’m so glad that my disbelief and shock amuses you,_ she thought sarcastically to Him. She was thoroughly ignored as Death continued His hysterical laugh.

Of all the people she had thought she would have to live with, Snape had not even entered her mind. Not that she still held on as much animosity towards the man when she had been at Hogwarts the first time around – his memories offered just before he had died had helped somewhat –, however that didn’t mean that she had automatically forgiven the snarky Potions Master for how he had treated her throughout the years ever since she had started at Hogwarts. But now that she thought a bit more about it, it was not that implausible as Lily and Snape had been best friends for many years. And, as her mother seemed to imply in her Will, it seemed they had made up before she had died. She doubted Lily, who was already in hiding at the time, would meet with Snape if she didn’t trust him somewhat. Not to mention the vow – an Unbreakable Vow, perhaps? Those weren’t made on a whim, only someone under pressure or outright forced would do it, or else someone who was firmly sure of what they were promising.  And, as Iris knew that her mum would never be able to force Snape into anything he really didn’t want to, the latter option was the only one she could consider possible.

Still, she needed to change tactics slightly if Snape was to be her legal guardian.

Firstly, Dumbledore could never know that Snape had ‘robbed’ him of his precious weapon. The old man would stop at nothing to retrieve what he saw as his, and, more than likely, Snape would be on his way to Azkaban before he could even begin to terrorize the new batch of first years. As it was Dumbledore who saved him from prison – never mind that Snape had indeed been a spy and under Veritaserum or through given memories he could prove his undercover work during the last war, but admittedly, the state of British Magical Judging System was not the greatest (Sirius Black was locked for life without a trial and Lucius Malfoy payed his freedom through bribery and with the feeble excuse that he had been under Imperius), so who really knew – the old man could change his mind at any moment and ‘allow’ the Potions Master to be arrested as he ‘rightfully deserved’.

Then, she would have to tell Snape some part of the truth, because she wouldn’t stand to be mistreated in the same fashion as last time by the dour man. That and she wouldn’t have the patience or the disposition to behave like a little kid. Maybe that way Snape would treat her like an adult. Still, if he insisted on insulting or humiliating her in any way, well, she wouldn’t be shy in showing him the error of his ways. Perhaps, she would tell him some hard truths about what it had been her life the past ten years – even though one look at her at the moment and he would understand well enough if he didn’t decide to be wilfully blind like his other self had been – and what exactly had been Dumbledore’s role in all of it, only for starters, when Snape had Vowed to protect her and he had been doing a piss poor job of it. Perhaps, she should tell him that Dumbledore knew of the real traitor and did nothing and also remind him that she knew the Potions Master had been the one to relay the Prophecy to Voldemort. Yes, that would do it nicely.


	4. STEP THREE - CRYPTIC WORDS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which more shocking secrets and revelations come to light and cryptically written letters are received.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is the brand new chapter.  
> Enjoy!

‘’If the words don’t add up it’s usually because the truth wasn’t included in the equation.’’ – Unknown

* * *

 

STEP THREE – CRYPTIC WORDS

‘’I suppose from your reaction that you weren’t expecting this,’’ Ragnok stated more than asked, inwardly amused at the faces the girl had made for the last minutes as she was lost in her thoughts.

‘’Yes, I admit it’s something I didn’t foreseen. In the future when Dumbledore’s crime was found out, it was too late as I was already of age so I didn’t really care and didn’t read my mother’s Will. All the recipients of the Will had been dead, so it didn’t matter anyway,’’ Iris explained as truthfully as she could. For some reason, she didn’t want to disclose that in all actually she came from another dimension and not really the same world, only from the future.

Ragnok nodded in agreement as he pulled another sheet of parchment to him. This morning, he was writing too many letters, not that he really minded. Everything he was doing now was to prepare Iris Potter and subsequently her alliance with Gringotts for future events.

‘’So an official missive summoning Mr. Snape to Gringotts is in order?’’

‘’Yes, please. But be as vague as possible, I don’t want him to mention anything off-hand to anyone else as to the reason he’s been summoned,’’ she suggested thoughtfully. ‘’Dumbledore is always sticking his crooked nose where it doesn’t belong and I wouldn’t put it past him to make a Spanish Inquisition out of it if he suspected something was afoot.’’

‘’Very well.’’

As Iris mentally prepared herself to relax for some time, while waiting for Miss Duval’s response, she noticed that Silvertooth still held a sheet of parchment in his talon-like hands and his expression seemed to be of one who was not looking forward to speaking his next words. Automatically, she stiffened, wary and suspicious. She had a feeling that she would not like, at all, of what she was about to hear.

Sure enough, the goblin in question, uncomfortably cleared his throat before speaking, and his next words sent Iris into a state of such a powerful and intimating rage, the likes of which the creatures were hard pressed to remember anything like it in their considerable long lives.

‘’While I was searching for your parents’ Will, I stumbled upon something else that greatly matters to you, Miss Potter,’’ Silvertooth started carefully, making sure to show that he was being completely honest in what he was saying and that he had no previous knowledge of this matter. He didn’t wish to be collateral damage when the Mistress of Death discovered that someone had decided her future without any of her input beforehand and her tremendous power slipped in her outrage and unconsciously sought the one to blame for it. She narrowed her eyes warily at him and silently demanded to know what he was talking about. ‘’It seems that Mr. Dumbledore has seen fit to make a betrothal contract in your name to one Ronald Weasley last year at the Ministry of Magic.’’

The goblin barely managed to get his last word out before, once more, the office chilled to very uncomfortable low temperatures. The stalactites re-emerged as well as the frozen walls and floor, and the breathing of the goblins in the room turned clearly visible. And just like previously, the Mistress of Death remained oblivious to these changes as it seemed she was fighting inwardly against to simply destroy everything around her.

For many unbearable long and freezing minutes, the two goblins could only try to keep themselves warm enough to not gaining frostbite and wait that the young witch recovered her temper, all along feeling like they were seconds away from dying a very painful death.

Meanwhile, Iris was lost in her storming and furious thoughts.

Honestly, she shouldn’t have been surprised with this – it was only another altering detail that Death had warned her about. She knew very well that the old man was crafty and really didn’t care what he had to do to keep control of his weapon.

Without even looking at the contract, she was certain that Dumbledore had done his best to try and strip away any kind of power she could have in that future relationship. Never mind that she was an heiress to the Noble and Ancient House of Potter, while Weasley, besides being a pureblood, had nothing to offer in that union – no money and no political or social status. But, as it became usual when Dumbledore was involved, whatever he wanted, somehow he was able to accomplish and she was sure that, no matter how he had worded that contract, it was as binding as it could be.

At the moment, Iris couldn’t see any possible and logical way out of it, besides just killing the red-headed greedy bastard and be done with it. After all, dead bodies couldn’t marry. She felt Death humming in agreement at that thought, unsurprisingly. However, she had plans and she needed all those traitors alive to make them happen. Death had already gotten his chance of tormenting those people in the other timeline (and he would have once more when they left the living world in this one as well), so now it was her turn. Besides, she needed to read that contract very carefully to see if that by his first ‘intended’ dying she wouldn’t be forced to marry one of his older brothers. Gods, she hoped not.

Mind becoming rational once more, Iris opened her eyes (When had she closed them?) and with barely a look around at the different ‘décor’, though the temperature raised and returned to comfortable levels again, she wordlessly demanded to see the accursed sheet of parchment. Wisely, Silvertooth complied promptly and silently and allowed her to read through it in peace.

As she had thought, Dumbledore had been his controlling and underhanded usual self and had given as much power as he could legally get away with to Weasley while Iris would become the submissive and helpless wife in the marriage. All possessions and political power that the Potter name carried would automatically belong to the husband and Iris could do nothing about it. The deadline to the contract was Iris’ sixteenth birthday – she strongly suspected that the old man wouldn’t allow her to reach her majority and thus somehow finding a way to get away from under his thumb. She had a few years at least, she noted relieved, no need to act rashly and carelessly right away, like a thoughtless Gryffindor.

As far as she could see, the contract was fairly straightforward and absolutely legal; however there was something off with it that she couldn’t really understand. Until she saw the guardians’ signatures at the end of the contract, that is.

During her long years as a wraith, Iris had studied several different areas of magic, whenever she was able to possess someone magical.

One time, she had wondered exactly how magical binding contracts worked exactly. She had remembered the debacle with the Goblet of Fire and wanted to know if she had had really no choice in participating in the Tournament or if she could have been spared from that whole fiasco if she had more information about it and thus protested her unwilling admission in the competition. Indeed, she had discovered that she had truly no way out of it, however she had been shocked to realize that she had been deemed legally an adult – actually a forced emancipation, due to the Age Line Dumbledore had conjured with the combination of the Goblet of Fire’s old magic and the Ministry and the Headmaster‘s unanimous agreement of her participation – and no one had ever seen fit to inform her of her new status. What was even worse, she had been unjustly tried before the entire Wizengamot and almost expelled from Hogwarts the following summer because she had casted magic in front of her cousin while defending both of them against Dementors. And all along she was already considered an adult. At that moment, the loathing she had felt towards Dumbledore and the Ministry had risen to a whole new level, something she had thought no longer possible.

In any case, while she had been researching about magical binding contracts, Iris had naturally stumbled upon marriage contracts and had read upon the subject. At the time, she really hadn’t any necessity to know about such a thing – she was a wraith, after all, and was officially dead to the Wizarding World at large – but, she had done it all the same, because what else she had to occupy her time with? She was immortal and there was not much she could do in her present condition anyway.

So, Iris was able to notice straight away that there was something amiss with this contract. Granted, it was still binding and legal, no doubt about it. Nevertheless, her eyes narrowed in thoughtful suspicion when she remarked that instead of Mr. Weasley’s signature as the Head of the Family – regardless of their status as ‘Blood Traitors’, they were still purebloods, and thus needed to properly follow at least some proper Magical and legal proceedings – , it had been Molly _Prewett_ who had signed, right after Albus Dumbledore. This only happened when the Head of the Family was otherwise indisposed or he didn’t know about it, which in this last case made the contract null and void, so it was a moot point in Iris’ opinion.

That didn’t really explain, however, Molly’s need to sign with her unmarried name. No, something else was wrong here.

As far as she understood, there were two main types of marriage contracts – one was between two pureblood families, or when the bride or groom was a half-blood; the other was when one of the suitors was muggle-born. In this case, it seemed that it was an odd mix between these two categories. From Iris’ part, everything seemed to be as it should, however when reading Weasley’s side of the contract, the style seemed to change visibly. Despite him being a pureblood and having a large family, no one else was mentioned, aside from his mother, who in this instance went by Prewett, instead of Weasley. There was absolutely no mention of one of his brothers (or any other suitable close relative in the absence of siblings) possibly taking his place in the betrothal if he wasn’t able to do it himself, as it was usually done in these contracts whenever possible to avoid blood feuds and the like between the two families, which Iris found beyond strange. She knew there was simply no way that Dumbledore would allow such carelessness and that his ‘weapon’ could possibly, by a turn of fate, be free from his clutches, without another appointed groom already prepared to rigorously follow his plan.

So, this begged the imperative question: what was going on?

Death chuckled in the back on her mind.

**_Not everything is as it seems, Mistress. Remember that many things from the past and the future are different, even though that at first glance it doesn’t seem so._ **

Iris grumbled inwardly at Death’s cryptic words. Sometimes, He saw fit to bestow upon her some bits of helpful knowledge, but never in a straight forward way. It annoyed her greatly, which Death knew very well and thus endeavoured to do it whenever He could.

She pondered Death’s words for a while in correlation to any possible reason Molly would have to sign this contract with the Prewett name, thus willingly distancing herself from the Weasley family.

After a few minutes of finding and discarding ideas, her head snapped up, her eyes unseeing and her expression one of complete shock and disbelief. No, it couldn’t be possible, could it be?

 ** _As the muggles use to say, Mistress, Bingo!_** Death confirmed, clearly amused at his Mistress’ expense. His chuckles were faint but she could hear them clearly even when she wanted to ignored them.

Allowing some more time to let the rest of that shocking deduction sink in completely, a smirk slowly formed on Iris’ lips, making the goblins instinctively stiffen warily. That was a not a nice expression, even less so in the face of a malnourished and bruised eleven years old girl.

‘’I just discovered a highly interesting and shocking fact about Dumbledore’s personal life that I would never have thought could be possible,’’ she stated at last, smugly.

The two goblins stared at her in open curiosity. What could she have discovered about Dumbledore from simply reading a betrothal contract?

‘’It seems that the old man plans on obtaining the Potter’s power and wealth much more directly and permanently than I first thought possible,’’ she explained to the confused creatures. ‘’As confirmed by my undisputable source, Ronald Weasley is not Arthur Weasley’s son as it is officially believed.’’

The skinny and battered girl allowed that statement to sink in for a moment in the goblins’ minds. Would they reach the same conclusion she had? True, at first glance this seemed a bit farfetched but if one considered Dumbledore’s power hungry, underhanded ways and Iris’ casual words just now, it really wasn’t that hard to realize what exactly she was getting at.

* * *

Aurora Duval was a notorious British wizarding solicitor with over fifteen years of experience.

Half-Scottish and half-French, this intelligent witch had always done her level best to win every legal case that landed in her capable hands and, most of the time, she succeeded in doing so.

Aurora was neither pro-light nor pro-dark – if asked, she would confidently state that she was definitely neutral. She didn’t care what ‘kind’ of wizard or witch required her professional services as long as the reason for it was legitimate, which guaranteed her plenty of clients.

However, she was only human, and thus there was a clear exception to her definite professional life style: Albus Dumbledore.

To put it bluntly, she loathed the man and would never work in his benefit, regardless of the cause. She didn’t broadcast to the world her opinion on the Hogwarts’ Headmaster but she didn’t make a secret of it either – a fact that often alienated her colleagues who worked mainly with the ‘Light Side’ of their world. Many believed that if Aurora disliked Dumbledore so much, surely there was something she was hiding and was certainly not respectable.

The witch ignored their unwanted opinions, however, as she couldn’t care less what people who blindly and mindlessly followed the old wizard thought of her. She had valid reasons to loath Dumbledore and there was no one on Earth who could possibly change her mind.

When Aurora had been only ten years old, her father, Gustave Duval – who was a free-lancer reporter and writer – had been investigating the Headmaster of Hogwarts due to something that Aurora had never been privy to. However, it seemed that Gustave had discovered something that he shouldn’t have because the reporter had been found dead not long after that. The circumstances had been suspicious at best and the murderer was never found.

At the time, Aurora and her mother, Adelaide, were aware of whom Gustave had been investigating, but they decided that it was best keeping their silence about it for fear of being ‘dealt with’ as well. Aurora never forgot, though, and had sworn upon her father’s grave that she’d eventually make Albus Dumbledore pay. In this case, she would do anything she could, even breaking the law if she had to, if only to ruin the wizard that had taken her father from her.

Fortunately, Aurora had attended Beauxbatons Academy of Magic instead of Hogwarts and thus thankfully never interacted closely with Dumbledore. No one would ever suspect that this woman was as Slytherin as they come, and thus often caught other wizards and witched off guard with her ways of going about doing her job and winning her legal cases. She was a very patient woman; she had waited many years for the right chance to push the great Albus Dumbledore off his high pedestal and it seemed that all her perseverance had finally been rewarded.

Just now, she had received an urgent missive from Gringotts – from Chief Ragnok himself, in fact – and the contents of the letter had left her interested and more than a little giddy. If what had been written proved to be true, Aurora knew that her opportunity had finally come to deal with the esteemed Headmaster.

Oh, she couldn’t wait to get started!

* * *

Severus Snape was enjoying a late breakfast in his quarters, looking forward to his long day of brewing potions in solitude.

 _Perhaps_ , he mused as he drank his second cup of black coffee, _after the potions required for the Hospital Wing are finished, I’ll try my hand at that new one that I read last night. It’s complex enough to be a reasonable challenge but not too long that will take me away from the school syllabus that I need to complete._

Decision made, the man was draining the remains of his hot drink when a house-elf appeared with a letter.

Idly, Severus found it odd, as the owl post had already been delivered more than an hour ago. He accepted the letter nonetheless and noticed right away that it was from Gringotts, which he found it even stranger as he had already received his bank statements the previous day, being the first of the month.

Deciding that he would have to open the envelope to discover what was really going on, he did so after casting his usual array of detecting spells. The war may have ended almost ten years ago; however he had never grown complacent.

_‘’Mr Snape,_

_Your presence is strictly required at your earlier convenience at Gringotts._

_Regretfully, I cannot explain the matter in writing due to safety reasons._

_Suffice to say, that it’s an important issue that suddenly came up related to your person and requires immediate attention._

_All shall be explained as soon as you arrive._

_Best regards,_

_Chief Ragnok_

_Director of Gringotts’’_

Severus’ brows had steadily risen with every cryptic sentence. For the life of him, he couldn’t think of any plausible reason that he should be summoned to Gringotts in such a manner, which left him very apprehensive and disconcerted.

Severus Snape had never liked the unknown.

Mentally saying a gloomy goodbye to his potions brewing, Severus decided that it was better to take care of whatever this was as soon as possible. As well as he knew himself, he would be mulling all day long about it and he doubted he would reach any plausible conclusion, which would only serve to frustrate him needlessly and end up botching up the experimental potion he had been planning to try his hands on.

So, with barely a look at his person to confirm that he indeed was presentable enough to go out in public, he grabbed his long black cloak and strode out of his chambers making his way out of the castle proper and grounds before Apparating away.


End file.
